Ain't Got the Stomach For It
by Hawki
Summary: Bloodlines Oneshot: Fighting a space vampire in close quarters rarely has good odds of success.


**Ain't Got the Stomach For It**

It's quite difficult to kill a space vampire.

Actually, let me rephrase that. There's lots of ways to kill a space vampire. Blowing them up. Asphyxiation. Biological and chemical weapons. Shooting them a lot. At the end of the day, it's still possible to kill a space vampire, and not in the clichéd way of driving a stake through their heart (granted, that'll do the job), or exposing them to sunlight (though UV will still do a number on them), or garlic (which has no effect – trust me, we've tried it). But let me re-iterate my point – it's very hard to kill a space vampire. And I'm finding that out the hard way as I find myself under attack by one of the bastards.

He's ugly. His hair is long. He smells funny. He's wielding a sword in one hand, and a pistol in the other. Just like me, really, minus the pistol – space vampires would much rather board starships to hunt their crew rather than blow them up. They're raiders, slavers, and yes, they do suck blood. So while humans would much rather kill each other from as great a distance as possible, when it comes to the space vampires, it behoves us to get up close and dirty.

He raises his pistol. Wielding my sword, I knock it out of his hands. Before I can savour my victory however, he slashes his own blade, slashing my right cheek and part of my chest. I shiver as a chill runs down my spine, as the blood pours out from the wound. I watch as the creature sniffs, no doubt able to smell my blood as easily as he can see it. I shiver again, and not just from the loss of blood – I'm at a disadvantage. I was at a disadvantage from the moment the freaks boarded our starship, and this particular freak came face to face with me in one of the corridors, but now that disadvantage has been amplified.

The vampire grins, showing his teeth. I'm at a disadvantage. And he knows it as well.

He presses the attack. I parry his blows, but it's getting harder. The vampire doesn't just have superior speed, but he has superior strength as well. His blade cuts against my waste. He kicks me in the stomach. Staggering back, I fall to the ground. He's winning.

I should be terrified. But live with space vampire raids long enough, and the prospect of dying becomes routine. His sword plunges down…

…and I kick, my boots making contact with his stomach. It doesn't do much, but it does cause the bastard to back away a bit. He no doubt expects me to try and get to my feet. Not reach for his dropped pistol. I grab it. I fire…

…and miss. He jumps from wall to wall in the ship's corridor, the rounds bouncing off the metal hull, joining the symphony of screams and shots that echo throughout the entire starship. The gun will buy me time. But not much. But still enough for me to think my next move. To ignore the blood pouring down my cheek and from my chest. To save myself from losing more blood, as well as my life.

The sword, I think, as I keep firing. The sword is the key. I have to strike. Not in the chest – a thrust to the chest can kill a human instantly if it pierces the heart, but it has to deal with the rib-cage. It's not as easy as it sounds. The stomach on the other hand, is the better target. The death is longer, but guaranteed with the lack of medical treatment, which space vampires do not give. Course if I had a stake gun I'd aim for the heart (what? I said stakes would still do the job), but I don't have that luxury. Any more than I have the luxury of infinite ammo.

So I fire. The vampire dodges. And I strike, plunging my sword forward. Right into his stomach.

The creature screeches. He doesn't scream, or wail, or curse, he _screeches_. He stares at me. I stare back. It's not a lethal blow in of itself. But it'll do the job. It-

And he bites me. This time, I scream. As best as I can as the creature's teeth tear into my throat. I fall. I gurgle. I start choking. I look up at the creature above me. Casually looking down at me, as casually as his own wound.

I'm dying. I fought. And failed.

And as I cry, as my tears mix with my blood, I realize something…

…I just didn't have the stomach for this.

* * *

><p><em>AN_

_The idea for this came from reading _The Sworn Sword_, where a character coldly instructs recruits that it's better to stab a foe in the stomach than chest, as while stabbing someone through the heart can kill them instantly, stabbing them in the stomach is easier to do, and will guarantee death eventually (this being a medieval-level setting). So, yeah. Wrote up something based on a canceled Blizzard game. Go figure._


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